


144 - A Doctor-in-Training Stitches Van Up

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “one fanfic in which y/n is a doctor or is training to be one? And then she mets Van.”





	144 - A Doctor-in-Training Stitches Van Up

Van's head was gushing blood. It covered half his face and clumped his hair together. He wasn't seriously hurt though. That was easy to diagnose based on his behaviour. He was laughing and talking with Larry. They were making Monty Python jokes; it was just a flesh wound! When they had arrived in emergency he'd been given a thick gauze pad to hold to his head. He was holding it there when you called his name.

"Ryan McCann?" you asked the waiting room. People slumped back into their chairs when their name was not the one you spoke. Van and Larry stood and walked to you. Van was wobbly with loss of blood, but he was all smiles.

"That's me! Call me Van," he said.

"Van… McCann?" you repeated in question. He nodded but quickly stopped when his head screamed out in pain.

"This is me mate Larry,"

"Hi. I'm Y/N. I'm the Resident on duty tonight. I am legally obliged to inform you that I am still in training, and therefore am working under the direct supervision of the on-duty physician. Tonight that is Doctor Valent. Is that okay?" you repeated the speech you'd delivered many times before. Both Van and Larry looked bewildered.

"You're not a real doctor?" Larry asked.

"I have a six year medical degree and an internship. I'll be a real doctor soon," you replied, emphasising 'real doctor' like Pinocchio says 'real boy.'

"Love, I don't care if you've just wandered in off the street. If you can hook us up with some pain killers and a bandage, I'll be grateful," Van said. You nodded and motioned for them to follow you.

Van sat on the hospital bed. You took the gauze away and directed him to close his eyes. You cleaned the wound. Their jokes may have been cliché, but they were right - it was just a flesh wound.

"What were you doing when this happened?" you asked.

"In a band. Fell off some equipment I was climbing on stage,"

"He was showin' off," Larry added.

"There are a lot of blood vessels close to the surface of the skin on the head and face. Injuries to the area tend to bleed a lot. About 20% of the blood in you is up here too because you need a lot of oxygen for your brain to work. Another reason why you're bleeding a lot. And, if you were in a state of high physiological arousal, which performing in a band would certainly induce, then your blood was flowing fast. Little cut, big amounts of blood," you explained as you checked that there were no foreign objects in the cut.

"You're dead clever, yeah?" Van said impressed. You'd mostly just told him information that you thought was common knowledge. He winced as you worked.

"She is. One of our best Residents, if not the best," Doctor Valent said from the door. She walked in and checked the cut. "Does the patient need stitches?" she asked you.

"Borderline. That is dependent on the patient characteristics," you replied. She nodded. "Are you likely to be doing a lot of physical activity in the coming weeks?" you asked Van. He nodded and shrugged.

"He's got a lot of shows to do. Doesn't get heaps of rest between them, either," Larry added. You wondered if he was always a mum friend, or just when his friends were hurt.

"A lack of sleep will impair your body's ability to heal. Stitches may help. I would recommend a single suture," you decided.

"I agree. Go ahead. Anything else?" Doctor Valent said, reading Van’s paperwork.

"Patient does not present as concussed, but all head trauma should be monitored for late-onset symptoms,"

"Good. Mr McCann, I would suggest you stay here for a couple of hours so we can monitor you. If you leave and experience symptoms, it may be too late to help. Better safe than sorry, yes?" she said to Van. He looked over at Larry, who nodded.

"Okay. Thank you," he replied. She left the room, trusting in your ability to stitch Van back together. Skin numbed, you quickly and precisely performed the procedure. When you were finished, Van grinned. "No lollipop?"

"Store across the road is open 24/7. Send Larry," you replied. "I'll come and check on you in half an hour. Stay put."

…

A week later you were on the roof of the hospital at the end of your shift. Sometimes you needed to see the city like that. Spread out, lit up, alive. It was a good reminder that despite all the sick and sad and hurt inside the walls below you, there was a whole wide world out there that was coping just fine too. Back inside, you stepped into the elevator without looking up. A voice gasped.

"Finally!" Your head shot up, and Van was standing in the elevator. "Been looking for you everywhere! What you doin' on the roof?"

"What?"

"On the roof. What were you doing?" he asked again. He was acting like you knew why he was there; like you were meant to meet up. When you didn't answer, he understood he'd skipped a step. "Sorry. Hi. I was looking for you,"

"You said,"

"Yeah. 'Cause I wanted to say thanks for looking after me and stuff." The elevator doors closed behind you, and Van moved to where the floor buttons were. He smirked and pressed the button for the next floor down. You watched his face as he thought up mischief. "And I wanted you to know that I think you're gonna make a class doctor, you know?" The elevator arrived at the floor, and Van held down the button to keep the doors closed.

"This is a hospital, you can't hijack the lift," you said, bumping him aside with your hip and letting the doors open. Nobody came in. He gave you a look that said 'well, see!' He bumped you back and pressed for the next floor down, then the next, and the next. The entire spread of buttons was illuminated, and Van looked very pleased with himself. He looked over at you.

"Happy? Now everyone can enjoy the lift," he said. You shook your head at him. Without the thick layer of dried blood, you could see him for what he was. Annoyingly, he was beautiful. Freckled skin and a trouble-making smile. "Anyway. You're dead smart and the hottest doctor I've ever seen." You laughed at his confidence. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. A person walked in, but they were general pop. You didn't have to greet them and explain Van. As the elevator continued on its journey down, he leant in and whispered. "And I was just wondering if maybe you'd want to get a drink with me sometime?" Next floor. No new people. "I know you're like, way out of my league, but I promise I have lots to offer." Next floor. Two other Residents entered.

"Y/N, hey," one of them said cheerily.

"Ali. Dean. How are you guys?"

You exchanged pleasantries, and as the elevator moved, Van took the opportunity to bump into you a little bit. Ali and Dean got off on the same floor, and a few stops later the general pop did too. You were alone with Van again.

"Lots to offer like what?" you asked, turning around to face Van. He was in reaching distance of the buttons and slowly leant out. You could see he was aiming for the emergency stop. "Don't do that," you warned.

"Or what?"

"Van,"

"I like that you remember my name,"

"Do not press that button," you said again. He pressed it. The elevator jolted to a stop and he grinned. "For fuck's sake. We've got thirty seconds before an alarm goes off,"

"Don't need thirty seconds. I can play guitar and sing, so I can do that and it will make you swoon, love. I'll write you songs and buy you flowers or whatever. I hardly sleep, so your night shifts won't bother me. I'll hold doors open for ya, and watch your favourite films. And I am so, so good with my hands," he said with a smirk. You shook your head and failed to contain your smile. You moved to start the elevator, but he stood between you and the buttons. You tried to move him but he playfully swatted your hands away. "I'll move if you say yes,"

"You can't coerce people into dates,"

"But you wanna,"

"I'll get in so much trouble if the alarm goes off. Please, Van!" you begged. He chuckled and moved, and you quickly let the elevator start again. You breathed out and turned to him. "You're such a fuck!"

He made a face and said, "Don't think you're allowed to talk like that to patients,"

"You're not my patient anymore,"

"Well then nothing stopping you from dating me, right?" he asked, thinking he'd won.

"You mean besides your annoying personality and stupid haircut?" you counted. His mouth opened in shock, then he cackled.

"Oh, I fuckin' like you… Say yes. Come on," he asked one more time. The elevator doors opened and closed a couple of times as he waited for you to agree. You wondered how long he'd been willing to wait. You got out on the seventh floor, and Van followed you.

"One condition," you said.

"Anythin'. Name it,"

"Please never say that thing about your hands again. That was gross." He laughed and nodded. You gave him your number and pushed him back into the elevator. He grinned and you watched as the doors closed.


End file.
